


a gentle gnawing

by nocturnal_pollinator



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: AU, Age Difference, Arthur is 36, Brothels, Drinking, High Honor Arthur Morgan, John is 18, John's kink is "good man" Arthur, M/M, Prostitution, Smut, You can pry that headcanon from my cold dead talons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 01:54:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21046364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nocturnal_pollinator/pseuds/nocturnal_pollinator
Summary: It’s a small act, but Arthur might as well have moved the world off-kilter.





	a gentle gnawing

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

When Bill Williamson dragged him to Saint Denis for a night of debauchery, the last thing Arthur expected was to be playing sitter to a surly boy half his age.

“Just watch the kid, make sure he doesn’t get involved in the whole mess,” Bill had asked him. The boy’s mother was a whore, a gambling one, and before they got down to drinking that night Strauss had requested they settle a debt for him on the side. He’d promised Bill and Arthur a cut of their own, and it seemed easy enough. Trouble was, the woman had an older son that could complicate things.

They agreed that Bill would play the role of interested customer wanting to sample the wares, and Arthur would strike up conversation with the boy in the brothel’s bar. Keep him distracted; play some cards, share some hunting stories…perhaps swindle some pocket change from him as well.

Arthur was confident they’d be in and out within the hour. Seasoned debt collectors that they were, they’d meet the gang at the saloon by the station after. They’d be drinking until the sun came up and fifty dollars richer before long.

There were no problems getting into the establishment. It was a run down hole in the wall, leaky and dim. A few men sat around a table in the corner, playing blackjack and yelling. They didn’t seem to discriminate the clientele, fortunately for them. Arthur looked to Bill, who smoothly asked the bulky man guarding a door to the upper part of the house for some time with “_Cara Lee_”. As he was led upstairs, Bill jerked his chin towards the bar.

Yup. It was all according to plan—

until Arthur laid eyes on his target.

The kid was sitting in the corner furthest from the entrance. A small thing, he was…younger than Arthur had expected. He was dark-haired and pretty, too. The corners of his soft mouth were edged with annoyance, and his eyes sharp like a wolf’s. He didn’t have the most approachable demeanor, seemed to be avoiding all and any eye contact with the other patrons scattered about.

Vaguely, Arthur wondered what was even the point of this being a two man job. He was a sliver of a boy, seemed quiet. Uninvolved.

Arthur cleared his throat as he walked over. He signaled for a finger of whiskey and sat down next to the kid. The older man gave a soft thanks to the bartender as he set down the small glass in front of him. He looked over briefly, noticed the boy hadn’t even looked up from his drink despite their proximity. He seemed to have hunched over more than before in fact, like he wanted to disappear. Arthur tried again, added a cough for effect. The younger man glanced up then, sucked his teeth.

“Got dust in your throat or somethin’, mister?” His voice was raspy, didn’t carry like a grown man’s would.

The outlaw chuckled.

“Nah, boy. Although it is a bit dirty in here,” He sipped his whiskey. “Just wanted to get your attention.”

The kid rolled his eyes, “Well I’m not workin’ tonight. Or any other night, for that matter, so try your luck elsewhere.”

Arthur may have choked for real then, the statement catching him unawares. “No, no, I’m not tryin’ to-“ Arthur sighed, drank what was left in the glass. He signaled to the barkeep for two more, noting this was trickier than anticipated.

“Why don’t I start over,” He offered the young man the second finger of whiskey, raised his own.

The boy cocked a brow at the gesture, but took the drink.

“My name is Tacitus. Tacitus Kilgore.” Arthur continued, “I’m here from Strawberry on business, thought I’d show my associate a good time.” He nodded in the direction Bill had gone in. “He’s takin’ full advantage.”

He briefly looked towards the stairs, shifted his gaze back to Arthur’s. Disdain broadcasted on his features, and he made no move to drink the whiskey in his hand.

“Aren’t you here to fuck whores too, Mr. Kilgore?”

“Not at the moment,” Arthur responded, “Much prefer conversing with locals at this point in time, Mr.- erm. What was the name?”

The kid frowned. “I hadn’t mentioned my name, _mister_.”

For a minute, Arthur thought he was going head upstairs and Arthur would have to yell for Bill, turn the situation into a disaster. This was all to obvious, it seemed.

Maybe the kid was dumber than he looked though, because he continued, “The name is John. I…” He took a sip from his glass, “I live here, with my ma.”

Arthur nodded thoughtfully. “John. That’s a good name.”

The boy, _John_, smirked for the first time that evening. Seemed to relax his shoulders a bit when he realized Arthur wasn’t going to comment on his living situation. Arthur couldn’t help but notice how much younger it made him look.

“Is it now?”

“I’ve known some fine men with that name.”

“Seems like a plain and boring name to me. I’m no fine man, I assure you.”

It was Arthur’s turn to smile, “Well, then at least we have that in common.”

“Perhaps we do.”

John threw his head back, shot down the rest of his whiskey. His throat was milky smooth and long.

Arthur ordered two more.

***

They continued talking for the next twenty minutes, Arthur doing his best to play the part of a benign traveler. To his unwelcome surprise, Arthur found himself very interested in the kid. John was heavily guarded, careful to never give away too much in his words. But every expression he made was transparent, his face giving away everything that his mouth couldn’t. It was borderline entrancing.

And it was bothering Arthur.

He wanted to know more, wanted to know what laid beneath the sullenness and disinterest.

Perhaps it was all the drinking, but Arthur found himself thinking how much better John’d look with all the hardness shook out of him. Have it replaced instead with the sweetness only gifted upon the fortunate of this world. He didn’t know why or how, but he wished that he could be the one to do that for the young man.

_Ah,_ Arthur was getting drunk. Either that, or Arthur was losing his mind.

He wasn’t quite sure which it was yet.

John was unaware of his drinking partner’s conflicted thoughts, continuing to talk about how much he wanted to get him and his mother out of Saint Denis.

“Everyone here is so mean. Ain’t no place for the likes of us…my ma is just getting older, ain’t making money like she used to and I don’t want to have to-“ he paused, “To do what she does.”

An unfamiliar feeling settled in Arthur’s stomach, sour and roiling. “Well I’m sure you don’t have to. Do you work?” Arthur asked, “Honest work, I mean. To help out your mother.”

“No such thing as honest work,” John said bitterly, “This place is built on exploiting the weak, the hungry…no one knows it better than us.”

Arthur regarded him, quiet.

“I worked for a shopkeeper near the square for a while,” John continued, “Nothing fancy. Delivering groceries to people on the outskirts of the city and such. One day, he somehow found out my ma was a, well, that she worked _here_. Said it was looked down on in the community, couldn’t come back to work there no more.”

“I see...So how do you make any money?”

“Well. I do the odd thing, here and there.” John looked down at his bitten fingernails. “I’ve been saving, every dime. Going to get us out of here soon.”

Arthur tried not to grimace. ‘Odd things’ used to only mean one thing to him when he was a boy. Stealing and thieving. Even in the darkness of the bordello and the clamor around them, Arthur recognized that same disposition in John. The ever present need to escape the world around them, all else be damned.

“I reckon you could if you wanted to,” Arthur said “You seem bull headed enough.”

John laughed, “Mhm, _oh_, I want to-“ he stopped himself, as if silently questioning if he wanted to voice the sentiment out loud at all, “I guess I want to live on a ranch somewhere…Somewhere quiet.”

It began to dawn on Arthur that there were only two roads to take from here. The more John talked about this theoretical ranch, all starry eyed and moony, the clearer the choice became.

“My apologies, kid. I gotta stop you right there—“ He was just about to pause the conversation, head upstairs and tell Bill to forget everything, absolve the debt. They’d find a homestead to rob instead, no one would be the wiser. He would’ve told John to be more careful, tell his mama not to borrow money from bad men no more. Tell him to follow a better path, live peacefully…

A high pitched scream rang from upstairs and interrupted him. Everything happened so quick Arthur didn’t have time to stop John before he sprang out of his chair and towards the stairs.

“Shit!” Arthur followed him up, in the direction of the screaming. He kept his hand at his hip in case the large man from before reappeared. When he reached the landing, John was nowhere in sight but there was only one open door down the hallway. Arthur heard more yelling, objects being thrown.

_So much for things goin’ smoothly, _he thought.

He approached the room. It was gaudily decorated. A woman cowered against the single window in the room. Broken glass littered the floor, a bed with rumpled sheets in the center. John and Bill stood on either side of it, both seething and red faced.

“What the fuck did you do to my ma?!” John yelled.

“Your ‘_ma’ _owes a debt, boy. And she’s going to pay up!” Bill said. He ducked as John threw a lamp from the nightstand at his head.

Neither of them seemed to notice Arthur come in. As Bill jumped over the bed to make a grab for John, Arthur bellowed “Stop!”

All eyes in the room fell on him. He made eye contact with John, whose expression flashed from surprise, to hurt, to anger.

“You!” he stalked around the bed, but kept his distance, “You were tryin’ to distract me so this man could steal from my ma!”

“Now, now, let’s talk about this—“ Arthur began.

Bill was livid, “How many times do I have to go over this with you, boy? We came to collect a _debt_.”

The woman, _Cara_, began to cry. “Please…please just give me more time. I tried to tell ya, I just need a couple more nights.”

“We have given you more than enough time, ma’am,” Bill turned towards her, “Now I don’t care if you have to uh, pay us back in _other_ ways. But we _will_ collect.”

“You bastard!” and John was on Bill so quick, the older man had no time to react. For such a skinny kid he really knew how to throw a punch. He got two good ones in before Arthur was pulling him off.

“Get off me! You’re just as much a bastard as him!” John yelled, feral and squirming.

Arthur held him tighter, arms around his chest. “Now listen here, boy,” he breathed in his ear, Arthur vaguely thought he smelled like wildflowers. “You stop acting a fool. Calm yourself. We ain’t gonna hurt you or your ma, I promise. I just need you to stop strugglin’, and go stand over there by her. Am I clear?”

John’s breathing began to slow, but his hand still clutched at Arthur’s where it rested at his sternum.

“And you,” Arthur looked at Bill, noticed how his shirt was unbuttoned. He should have been disgusted, but he felt frustrated more than anything. “You go on to the station, meet up with the rest. I’ll handle this.”

Bill got up, rubbed at his jaw. He walked out of the room, but not before spitting at John’s feet. Arthur didn’t let go of John until Bill’s booming steps were no longer audible. He sighed and allowed John to go towards his mother.

Cara fell to the floor, silently sobbing. John ran up to her, trying to hold her face in his hands, shushing her in such practiced fashion that Arthur felt this was common enough for them both.

***

Giving them privacy seemed like a good idea. Arthur gave them some time to talk, waited outside the room while he ate an apple. He heard them whispering through the door. Heard Johns raspy scolding. Some more of Cara’s crying. When he didn’t hear much of anything, he knocked.

“C-come in.”

He opened the door, both mother and son now sitting on the bed. John still looked angry, but more resigned than all else.

“How much?” he asked.

Arthur scratched at his beard. “She borrowed thirty. With interest, reckon she would owe around fifty.”

“Fuck,” John said under his breath, rubbing his face into his hands.

Cara bit her lip. “Is…is there anything we could do? Pay in installments or somethin’?” She looked at Arthur imploringly, her eyes dark and pretty like John’s.

Arthur cleared his throat, “We don’t usually do payment plans, Miss Lee.”

Cara wiped at her eyes but nodded.

“However,” Arthur continued, “Seeing as my partner caused you some…emotional trouble, I figure we could consider the debt paid.”

At that, both Cara and John looked up.

“Y’playin’ with us?” John asked incredulously.

Arthur just shook his head, scratched the back of his neck.

Cara’s eyes twinkled with unshed tears, bubbling over with emotion as she got to her feet and threw her thin arms around Arthur’s neck.

“Oh, sir! Thank you! This, this—“ She was unable to finish her sentence, overwhelmed as she was. The embrace made Arthur uncomfortable, couldn’t quite figure out where to put his hands.

“No need to thank me, please,” He unwound himself from her, held her at an arm's distance. “You need to stop gambling, though, ma’am. And you,” Arthur looked pointedly at John, “You’re too hot headed, that’s gonna mean trouble for you if you don’t control it.”

John only nodded, words stuck in his throat. He was still in disbelief. No one was ever kind to them. And maybe it was a small act, but Arthur might as well have moved the world off-kilter.

The same unsteady feeling followed John for hours after Arthur strode out the house, rode on his horse down the street into the night.

Followed him for days after like a ghost.

Left him questioning if, perhaps, it happened at all.

***

They didn’t cross paths again for days. And Arthur did _try_; smoked his cigarettes down the street from the brothel during gang outings, shopped around the square, even waited around saloons nearby. He hadn’t felt this foolishly boyish since he’d been started seeing Mary all those years ago. But it seemed like John was nowhere to be found.

_"Maybe he finally got some sense and left,’ _Arthur thought. It should make him happy, but he couldn’t help feeling like he missed a train leaving the station.

One day, while talking to Sister Calderón near the church, he felt eyes on him form across the street. The boy was wearing a shirt much too large for him, slacks ripped at the knees. He must have not realized Arthur noticed, with the openness of his staring.

“Sister, y’mind if I head out?”

The older woman smiled, nodded. “Not a problem, Arthur. I know you’re a busy man. Thanks again for your donation.”

“My pleasure, sister.”

Arthur paid his respects and began walking towards John, who was now fidgeting with his sleeves and looking everywhere but at Arthur.

“Hey there, kid.”

“Oh, hello again, Mister…” John said, breathlessly like he’d been practicing in his head.

“Wanna grab a drink with me?”

He could have laughed with how enthusiastically John nodded.

***

“So your real name is Arthur, huh?” John asked. His tone was disinterested, but Arthur knew better from the blush forming across his cheeks.

“It certainly is.”

"I gotta say, cowboy, name doesn’t match your whole…” John waved his arm in the air around him, “Your whole thing.”

"I suppose you don't meet too many outlaws with that name these days."

"Tacitus was definitely more fitting."

Arthur chuckled, ordered them another round.

They were midway through their second beers when Arthur grabbed his knee. His bones felt hard through his skin, no amount of fat between the two. John pretended not to notice, taking another sip of his beer before checking if any eyes were on them, then setting his own hand on top of Arthur's.

“I’m no queer,” he said, but smiled. Soft.

“Seems like neither am I.” Arthur smiled back.

***

“Aren’t you just a flower from a house of ill repute,” Arthur growled in his ear, ripping open that too-big shirt until the buttons all popped off.

“Oh, _god_, shut up,” John gasped.

For the last couple of weeks they'd been meeting up, Arthur treating John to drinks, food, and shows. Every night, Arthur's been a strong man, dropping John back off at his home. He'd been careful not to push John in any direction he might not feel comfortable in. As much as he'd wanted to, he didn't want to scare the boy off. Until tonight, when John had asked Arthur to take him 'fishing', with a look in his eyes that said he wanted to do everything but fish. Arthur's resolution crumbled then, all but throwing John over his horse and galloping away.

They were in Arthur’s tent, up the road from Caliga Hall. Fucking for the first time in a whore house didn’t seem right, somehow, despite there being a bed and warmth there. Shady Belle was out the question, couldn’t have his gang members aware of this whole thing. So Arthur’s tent it was, between the swamps and the city.

John moaned against his throat, fingers digging into the muscles of Arthur’s naked back. They hadn’t even taken their pricks out, but the kid was already shaking.

“Fuck, fuck…” he breathed, arching as Arthur pulled down his pants with matching ferocity. Arthur kissed him quiet, hard and demanding.

“Shhh…” Arthur reached for his bag, resting back on his knees. He took out the gun oil and looked back at John, whining and a mess. He was totally naked now, skin shining blue in the moonlight and hair fanned around his head like a black halo.

“You’re so beautiful,” Arthur confessed, ripped out of him by the sight.

“S-shut up and fuck me,” John lifted himself halfway on his elbows, “Please…” he finished, grabbing Arthur’s chin for a kiss. Arthur acquiesced, dipping his fingers in the oil.

As he circled the boy’s entrance, he pulled back to look at his face. Needed to see his expression. Make sure he wasn’t hurting him. Arthur’d done this once or twice, but he’d never felt this way for a man before. It was a magnetic pull, what he felt for John. Something that went beyond desire. He was being as careful as he could, one finger then two. John threw his head back, moans just getting louder and drowning out the sound of bugs and animals outside the tent.

“Bet you could probably come from just this, huh?” Arthur nibbled at his earlobe, licked around the shell.

“Please, I don’t need t-this,” John gave a high pitched groan as he felt the most delicious sensation from Arthur’s ministrations rock his core.

“_Oh_, I think you do,” Arthur tried to get the same reaction, rubbing at the same spot inside John’s heat. When he got it, he kept at it. Deliberate, unrelenting.

John was near sobbing when Arthur felt confident he could take his length. He leaned back, didn’t bother taking off his own slacks. He slicked his cock with what remained on his hand and aligned himself, slowly pressed forward. As careful as he tried to be, it still stung, and tears prickled the edges of John’s closed eyes.

“Hey now,” Arthur forced out, stilling himself. It felt _amazing_. “Look at me.”

John took a gasping breath, steeling himself. He opened his watery eyes, shoulders shaking as he held onto Arthur like a vice.

Arthur began to rock forward and back, slowly. “Tell me what you feel,”

The boy to a rushed breath, at a total loss, “I feel…I feel,” a moan, “so_ good_, Arthur.”

There was a change then, and all Arthur could do was wildly thrust in and out like a man possessed. He pushed John's lovely thighs forward towards his chest, until he had the younger almost bent in half. Overwhelmed by it all, John began to weep.

"I'm, I'm-I feel weird!" he said.

"Yeah, yeah," Arthur groaned, going deeper every other thrust.

John reached down, felt the place they were connected. Eyes wide like saucers, like he couldn't believe it was all happening. A spectator. Felt Arthur's heavy balls slap against his ass. It was all so erotic, Arthur was embarrassingly close for someone his age. Knew it wouldn't be long now. He removed one of his hands from John's thigh and began to jerk him off in time with his thrusts. John was openly sobbing now, sobbed through his orgasm as it ripped through him and sprayed over their stomachs. Arthur made a broken noise, taking his cock out right before he came. His cum covered John's twitching hole in ropes, dirty and right.

***

After, Arthur did his best to clean them off. Gave John one of his spare shirts to wear. The kid was tender and dopey, malleable in a way Arthur hadn't thought possible. They held each other close in the lantern light. 

"My ma," John yawned, "She's moving to Valentine. Wants to start fresh."

Arthur nodded. "I s'pose that's a good place for her. For you, too. Livestock town, they'll need hands."

John tensed, "Me? No, I'm not going to Valentine. I..." John sat up, looked at Arthur with such determination it almost frightened him, "I want to go with you."

_Oh...Oh fuck. _Fear gripped Arthur's heart. Flashes of Mary, Eliza and Isaac came to his mind uninvited. _Two wooden crosses, goodbye letters, an empty heart for an empty soul._ No, he wasn't going to do that to someone he cared about ever again. The world ain't right, but he could try to...to...

"Now, I don't mean no disrespect to you John, but that doesn't seem a likely possibility."

"I thought-" 

"Whatever you were thinkin', you were wrong," Arthur said firmly. "You're not going to become an outlaw on my account, kid."

The dejection came off John in waves, hurt Arthur like an arrow through his throat, "What about us?" 

"Well, what about us?" Arthur asked. "There's no quiet ranches in my future, kid." He took out a cigarette and lit it, "No happiness either."

John looked his age then, full bottom lip trembling despite his best efforts. "So this was a one-off to you?"

Truth be told, it wasn't. Arthur hadn't felt this way towards a person in a very, very long time. But John was just a boy, a whole life ahead of him. Arthur would never be able to forgive himself if he led him down the same path he's walked all these years. He'd prefer the John think he's a degenerate that took advantage of him in a moment of weakness.

"You're a good man, Arthur," John implored, grasping at Arthur's chest, "I know you'd let no harm come to me."

Arthur stood up, "You are more than capable of keeping yourself safe, you know that." He sighed, smoke hanging around him. "You deserve better, kid. I mean that. As much as I want to, I can't keep you."

John looked up stunned, his hair still messy from fucking. Arthur resisted the urge to flatten it with his palm.

"Asshole," He stood up then too, lifting the flap of the tent. "Fuck off and die then, can't believe I thought you were different."

"Hey now, let me give you a ride back at least! It's dark." Arthur rushed out after him, still shirtless.

"Like you said, I can take care of myself. Thanks." John called over his shoulder, grabbing his coat off the floor by the dying fire.

“Please,” Arthur grabbed John’s shoulder, “There’s bandits on the roads at this hour. You don’t even have a horse. I’ll ride you back and you could forget all about me then, okay?”

John looked away from Arthur’s face, silent for a spell.

He nodded, finally.

They tore down the camp and rode out.

It was a half hour’s ride back to the dim little brothel, and the whole time John held tightly to Arthur’s waist.

**Author's Note:**

> TBC.


End file.
